


To Come Back

by VesperDeRolo



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Body Horror, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperDeRolo/pseuds/VesperDeRolo
Summary: Just because death isn't permanent does not mean there are no consequences.





	To Come Back

She died again. It was the fourth time she died this week - a new record.   
  
Every time she returned to life, the Bandaged Lady would be there, waiting for warmth to refill her body, for her to wake up from that cold void.   
  
The Bandaged Lady often wore striking dresses of fine spider silk, adorned with glittering gemstones and glowing pearls. She was the epitome of elegance. Yet, many were wary of her due to her skin, or rather, the lack thereof. Every inch of where her skin should be was tightly wrapped in what seemed like bandages, all the way to the tips of her fingers. Her face was concealed and only a pair of silvery eyes, the hue of stars and smoke, peered through the wrapped cloths.   
  
Strangers avoided the Lady on the streets. The men with squid-heads who sold singing seashells refused to trade with her. Even the fiends, the demonic ambassadors of Hell, glanced at her with cautious eyes. She knew she too should be afraid.   
  
But it was impossible to be afraid.   
  
As she stirred from her slumber, awaking on a bed of dove-feathers, she felt the Lady’s lithe fingers placed against her torso where a gaping wound used to be, brushing over the newly formed scar, imbuing it with healing magic so the ache would disappear faster. The Lady’s touch was so tender, so gentle, as if pressing any harder might shatter her. Her own eyes met those silver-grey pools gazing at her with worry.   
  
It was impossible to be afraid.   
  
“You said you won’t die again.”   
  
Beneath the bandaged face, she did not saw the lips moving yet the Lady’s voice pierced through clear enough. Her husky tone was uncharacteristically aloof, as if they were chatting about the dreary weather or some matter of unimportance. Her eyes which were anxious seconds ago were now hardened, burning with a restrained fury.   
  
The only other time she saw the Lady’s eyes gleaming with such a glint was when years before, she had slipped and asked her once: why do you hide your face?   
  
The innocent question made the Lady’s eyes narrowed in a way she never thought possible. Reluctantly, she answered: sometimes my face forgets it's a face.   
  
“You promised you won’t die again.”

  
The second time the Lady spoke, it hurt. The guilt - the realization that she had disappointed the Lady, that she had betrayed their trust - had hurt. She was speechless, fruitlessly attempting to create an excuse, when the Lady lowered her head and walked away.   
  
She had expected the Lady to leave the room, to leave her and call the guards to escort her out. To her utter shock, she stopped just in front of the bedroom’s doorway and began unravelling her bandages.   
  
She had always silently, secretly, fantasized about what was hidden under those wrapped cloths. Perhaps, it was a chiseled face with petite lips. Maybe the Lady had a few scars across her cheeks. The truth, however, she could never had foreseen.   
  
The Lady had no lips, no rosy flesh she could kiss. She had teeth though. The teeth - so many, too many teeth - adorned what was her face, if it could be called a face. It was a mess of blotchy black, like long rotten remains of some hideous beast. Eyes decorated her cheeks and forehead, eyes of blood-red and venom-green, glowing like eldritch fireflies. The nose misshapen, placed in the wrong spot. The ears equally deformed.   
  
“In this world, death isn’t permanent,” said the Lady in a quivering voice, barely louder than a whisper. “But sometimes, you don’t come back right.”   
  
Amid the pin drop silence, she could hear the unspoken plea: _ please don’t die again. _ __  
  
The Bandaged Lady had surprised herself. It was decades ago since she had gazed into a mirror, even longer since she stared at it with her face naked. But the greater surprise she received today was from the troublemaker, the daredevil who found it thrilling to flirt with death. The reckless girl, the foolhardy woman whom she had rescued time and time again, appeared next to her and pulled off the cloths wrapped around her hands.   
  
She could not remember the last time another person kissed her hands like this. Her skin had always felt cold, as if surrounded by a perpetual chill, but a fireplace warmth slowly spread through her hands the moment those lips touched them.   
  
With no sound uttered, she heard the vow: __ I’m not going anywhere.


End file.
